


Follow Me Home

by Cupcakemolotov



Series: come alive [48]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Marriage of Convenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 18:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17452463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cupcakemolotov/pseuds/Cupcakemolotov
Summary: Caroline’s marriage to the third son of an Earl turned out very differently than she’d hoped. Banished to a military commission shortly after they’d wed, Klaus was rarely home. But five years can change many things, and with the death of his father and oldest brothers, Klaus has been summoned home.





	Follow Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> I took a lot of historical liberties with this and I’m okay with that. :)

“Do we not employ help for that, love?”   
  
Caroline froze beneath the broad brim of her hat. She’d removed her gloves impatiently as soon as the gardener had stepped away with his disapproving frowns, and she had let the little patch of earth she’d claimed as her own sooth her frustrated nerves. Her morning had been spent arguing with the staff regarding a series of household tasks she’d wanted done differently than the departed Dowager Countess, and it had left her head aching. Needing a moment to settle her agitation , she’d headed for the garden. The cold morning had brightened as the afternoon had crept in, and the fresh air had done her temperament good. 

Clearly she’d lost track of time, and now her husband had come looking for her. It was unfortunate he’d found her with her bare fingers buried in the dirt, her plain morning dress stained by the grass. Glancing up from beneath her lashes, for a moment she envied her husband his disregard for the sun. Even with a hat, she still freckled. Though his skin was still too dark to be fashionable, the signs of his previous deployment clear, she did not find it unappealing. It reminded her of her childhood in India, the sunbaked home she missed fiercely. Other than the cane he needed less and less for the injury that had occurred before his return, her husband was painfully perfect.

As always, Klaus held her eyes with far too much intensity and she returned her gaze to the roses she’d been carefully tending. “We do.”

The silence left her uncertain. The boy she’d married five years ago as a matter necessity had finally, permanently returned from his deployment barely a full fortnight before. No longer a boy, but a man. And one who was no less a stranger than before. Where previously she had been able to tuck away her worries for those short, surprisingly swift weeks they’d found each other’s company, now she faced the truth that her husband missed very little. She might have chosen to bury her girlish fantasies under necessary practicality, but she’d at least known the rules.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

The third son of an Earl in a surprisingly large family, her husband had been expected to make or find his own fortune. He had never lied to her about those expectations. As far as she knew, he had never lied to her at all. It had been why she’d accepted his suit, even knowing that his family life was strife with bitterness.

And it had been her choice, even after her father's untimely death. Her dowry had been sizable enough that she hadn’t been ignored her first season, for all that her wealth was from the continent and her father had the poor taste to marry a merchant's daughter who had been born in the colonies. Caroline had found England cold and unwelcoming, and her father’s death to a sweating sickness had left her and her ill mother vulnerable. Thankfully, the years Caroline had spent in India had taught her to be practical, and she’d boxed up her dreams as neatly as her sturdy collection of hats.

So she had exchanged her dowry for something like stability. It had been a bargain she’d been willing to make with a man who made her no false promises, even if she craved more. Happiness was a choice, and she’d been determined to find it.

Caroline hadn’t really known what to expect from her marriage, but she’d hoped to make it pleasant. But not even two weeks into their cautious cohabitation, Klaus had been gone. She’d never quite understood the animosity between Klaus and his father, but the forced stint in the military after they’d married had painted a clear picture. Esther had only turned her eye to Caroline to watch for an heir on the few occasions Klaus had returned home, weather roughened and tense.

If his family had expected her to break under the weight of their indifference, she’d taken a petty sort of joy in not only surviving, but by learning how to thrive. Caroline had refused to bend further than necessary to her husband’s family’s demands. Her dowry has given her the leverage to survive without a penny from their coffers as long as she was careful, and what Klaus had sent from his commission she’d tucked right back into the household budget.

She’d wanted a home.

Esther could have never understood that by shuffling her to Dowager House, Caroline hadn't seen it as a slight, but as a sanctuary. For both her and for those few, scattered instances when Klaus was home. Even know, she found she missed the simplicity of that house for all that she’d endured gossip and complaint laden tea parties in that house, had bitten her tongue through those awkward afternoons with her mother-in-law.

Caroline had clung to the memory of those few days spent with her husband for the possibilities they showed should they both survive the years. She often wondered if she’d find a companion or an adversary in him, for all that his deft fingers had always been nearly reverent on her skin. Klaus had been as kind to her as he’d later been demanding after their wedding night, and in the drafty bedroom she’d missed the heat of him all the long months in between visits.

But her life had drastically changed over the winter, when the Earl’s household had been decimated by illness and then a sporting accident. Lady Rebekah had survived the fever that had taken her mother and father, and had thankfully not been the carriage carrying Lord Finn and Lord Elijah when it had crashed. Lord Finn had died instantly, but Lord Elijah had held on for a few weeks, eventually succumbing.

But not before recalling her husband.

Her husband who was now Earl Mikaelson.

Caroline caught her lip with her teeth as Klaus walked into the corner of her gaze and she blinked as he sat next to her on the grass, albeit a bit stiffly. Turning, she stared at him in surprise as he studied her work with thoughtful eyes, seemingly as unconcerned with the grass stains as she.

“You don’t care for the gardener?” His words were a little sharp, but she’d learned it wasn’t  _ her _ he was surely with in particular. Adjusting to civilian life, and Lordship, had left what she’d known to be an uneven temper to be less than patient.

“I didn’t say that,” she said. Adjusting the brim of her hat, she did her best not to fidget. “I enjoy gardening.”

Something flickered through his gaze too fast for her to catch. “I know.”

Gaze narrowed, Caroline tried to remember a conversation about her love for growing roses. She had not written to him of her little hobbies. “Do you?”

“Marcel used to write to me about your garden.”

The abrupt change of topic left her blinking and a hint of a smile softened the hard line of his mouth. He reached for her stiff fingers, lifting them from her lap to study the dirt against her palms and under her nails. As always, he seemed to lose some of the tension he carried with him when he touched her. The overly straight lines of his shoulders softened, and the lines at the corners of his mouth relaxed. “He… what?”

“Hmmm, your gardening. Your mind for numbers. Your absolute ruthlessness about the proper way to fold a tablecloth. Your kindness to my sister, when she returned it not at all.”

Hoping her cheeks were warm from the sun and that she wasn’t blushing, Caroline angled her chin. “I’m certain there were far more important topics for your Steward to have written to you in regards too.”

“I’m just as certain there were not,” Klaus returned firmly. “Particularly when your letters were so sparse.”

Caroline’s lips parted in surprise and she snatched her hand back. Outrage sharpened her words. “They were  _ not _ .”

There was a flicker of something warm and heady behind the blue of his gaze. “A man has little use for the weather or the details of his family’s ongoings when at war, Caroline. Particularly my family, who we both know waited anxiously for word of my death.”

“Is that why you never bothered to respond?” She asked frostily. “My letters bored you? You thought I too hope for your death?”

“I looked forward to each correspondence, read each letter so often I have them memorized. As for my lack, the words I wished to send you, Caroline, did not belong on paper,” Klaus murmured gaze dipping to her lips. Her heart lurched at his expression.  “What promises could I make that I would not be forced to break? What longings did I speak of that you perhaps would return, our acquaintance so new as to be polite strangers?”

“Your silence,” she managed around a throat gone dry. “Did  _ not _ improve matters.”

The smile that curled his lips brought out his dimples. Thumb stroking across the back of her knuckles, Klaus angled his head in silent agreement. “Perhaps not. But I will not forget you built a home for us on the crumbs of my family.”

“I did no such thing,” Caroline said tartly, her eyes holding his with a determination that surprised even her. “I built a home for us on  _ our _ foundation, scant as it was, not the ruins of someone else’s mistakes.”

His smile was slow and dimpled, the blue of his eyes darkening with a familiar, blatant heat. Catching her curled fist, Klaus brought the underside of her wrist to the warmth of his mouth, lingering against her pounding pulse for long moments.

“As you say,” he finally murmured, coaxing her hand into relaxing within his. His thumb feathered across her knuckles again, as if he couldn’t stop touching her, his gaze never leaving her face. “And will you continue to build, Caroline?”

Her fingers twitched against his at the murmur of her name, but she angled her chin stubbornly against the heat in her cheeks. “That will depend.”

Both of his brows lifted, head canting to the side. “On what?”

“Will I be building alone?” Caroline took a steadying breath. “I won’t live with ghosts, Klaus. Neither yours nor mine.”

Those too intense eyes narrowed slightly as he considered her words. All the unsaid implications of these past weeks as they tried to resettle their lives into roles neither were comfortable with. His words were soft, but firm when he spoke. 

“War is not so easily left behind.”

Neither public nor private, she thought. Against family and for the crown, both had left their marks. Two wars waged in such a short life, both ending abruptly and without satisfaction, if such a thing could be found amongst the horror of it. Curling her fingers around his, she nodded. “I know. All I ask is that you do not let the memory of the past destroy what we have now.”

“What do we have, Caroline?”

“A chance,” she said simply.

“A chance,” he repeated, fingers tightening slightly against hers, lips curling. “I believe I once told you that I could do much with a chance.”

He had. He’d worn dimples in his cheeks then too, eyes glittering with promise. But it had been mere boy who’d left her heart pounding, then. This was better. “So you did. You may start my filling in the silence of the last fives years.”

“And you, Caroline? Will you also speak of the things you let unspoken?” His words were a challenge.

She blew out a breath. She would be having a conversation with Marcel in the future, attempt to discover what was said in such letters. “If you wish to spend an hour discussing roses, then certainly.”

“You know I speak of other things,” he chided gently. “But yes. I will submit myself to your expertise on such a matter.”

Her lips curved into a smile at the thought and his eyes dropped to trace the shape of it. “You may regret that.”

“Unlikely,” he disagreed. His eyes returned to hers, and his eyes were determined. “I want you to move back into my chamber.”

She felt her cheeks burn at the blatant want in his voice. “Klaus…”

“Caroline.”

There was only invitation in the way he said her name and she mentally conceded his point. What was the point of protesting when it was something she wanted too? Here, she had been given her own rooms when she’d grown accustomed to his things scattered among her own, the expectation of sharing a bed when he was in England. She  _ liked _ his bed. The heat of him next to her.

But she was no longer content with just physical intimacy. She wanted, needed more. Klaus had never backed down from her before, had always seemed delighted by her spirit. It gave her courage and hope. Pulling her hand free, she stood and shook out her skirts, brow lifting in the same challenge he’d given her earlier. “If that is your wish, perhaps you will take my words of breaking the silence between us seriously.”

He stood as well, and seemed far less concerned with the grass that clung to him. “I take everything you say seriously, Caroline. And I will happily prove it. Perhaps starting with lunch?”

She wondered if that was why he’d come to fetch her in the first place, and pleasure glowed in her chest. “I’d like that.”

Curling her arm through his, Caroline promised herself they’d make this work. They’d wold be happy. Together. So happy in fact, that both Esther and Mikael would roll in their graves.

She would ensure it.

 


End file.
